


Undeniable Truths

by Unreliablenarrator



Category: Jekyll & Hyde - The Musical, Jekyll & Hyde - Wildhorn
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Modern AU, PhD AU, i told you i'd do it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unreliablenarrator/pseuds/Unreliablenarrator
Summary: Despite what the media might say, Henry only wanted to clear his family's name. Please, believe me.





	1. Lineage

It would be difficult to tell the full story of Doctor Henry Jekyll if I did not first tell you the story of his family. 

Far before Henry was even an idea, the Jekyll family had lived in a small town north of London for years and were a local celebrity family, due to the fact Henry's grandfather had opened an inn that soon became the hub of the town. The family mostly kept to themselves and rarely kicked up a fuss. "It's the Jekyll way", old women would twitter in the bar of the pub after filing in from a Pilates class just down the street. 

So when young Albert Jekyll went off for University to study law, many believed he might come back to follow in his father's footsteps and keep the Inn running. 

Everyone returns to that sleepy old town, in one way or another. 

Albert was as charismatic as John was practical. Where John's friendliness and mild mannered attitude thrived, Albert was more of a suave, outspoken man. 

"One day," Albert's father sighed to his wife as he leaned back with a cigarette in his mouth, "I'll get a call from the police that both boys were arrested- and I'll get there to see Al's talked his way out and John's sitting playing cards with the officers." 

For those wondering as to why I said three Jekyll children but didn't introduce the third, it's not due to bad manners, but that the third child- Albert's younger sister and John's older- died in a motor vehicle accident a few years before John was born. 

As Jekyll's are wont to do they moved on through their grief, hence the birth of John a few years later.

Life went on (as it is wont to do) and Albert met his wife in school, married her, and went on to law school. John took over the family inn, married a nice girl from a town over who he had met when she had come to the bar during a bachelorette party for "the best cocktails outside of London". It took the poor man two years to realize his returning customer's interest.

Both weddings were "celebrity affairs" for the town. Other headliners were the birth of John's twins, and Albert's climb through minor courts in London; the papers stating he was well on his way to becoming a famous lawyer with celebrity connections.

Rumors say that Henry was an accident, that a man with as much drive as Albert wouldn't dare have a child in the middle of his race to the top. I considered this none of my business when looking into Henry's affairs, though from what I can tell during his childhood he was loved fiercely by both parents, his mother especially. 

The Inn became a hotspot for those who were a fan of Albert and his politics, and when he began to race for the House of Commons it was where he announced his campaign, with his family standing proudly behind him. At this time, Henry was small and there's a framed clipping of the photo from the newspaper that followed Henry everywhere he moved. Oftentimes it was a point of conversation between his roommates, or the parents of his roommates, and a reminder of better times, but Henry's adult life will be explored later. 

For now, I need to tell you about how the Jekyll's got to the point you might know them best. As I mentioned before, Henry's story is intertwined in the story of his family, you cannot have one without the other. 

Albert and the Jekylls made national news once he won the seat in the House of Commons by a landslide vote. Albert's charismatic speech and compassion bled through his campaign and made him a representative "we can trust" the voters explained. 

Alongside Albert's fame came the stereotypical paternal neglect that oft came with such power and demand from the state. 

There were memories, stored in the bank of Henry's mind, of a loving father that he fell back on more often than not. 

Disappointments outweighed the memories, and as the years went by Henry began to emotionally detach from the hope that his father might be there for him. As it was, his father began to change for the worse. A calm, reasonable man started to become harsh and cruel, angry at the drop of a hat. 

Henry was 16 when his father first hit his mother. He was 17 when his father first hit him. 

Like many famous politicians Albert hid the abuse well; of course there were the rumors in the tabloids but Henry and his mother were talented at keeping quiet about Albert's abuse. Henry stayed with the Utterson's and his mother often spent time with Lisa Stride, the wife of a local lawyer she had met during another dinner with Albert's coworkers. 

We enter the story a few years after the last time Albert made national news: when he was tried and diagnosed with early onset dementia being the cause of his decline, and his sentence being living the rest of his days at a care facility, only a few hours away from his family's inn. 

Everyone returns to that sleepy old town, in one way or another.


	2. Research

I met Henry one night during a party for the university he was completing his doctoral research at. Having covered his father’s political life and scandal years prior, our initial conversations were awkward but overall my impression of him was that he was his mother’s son. 

It wasn’t until he was nearing the end of his studies that he approached me asking about the possibility of a Jekyll family memoir, a tell-all story where he could not clear his father’s name, but give a full picture of his family’s history. 

“Why me?” I asked, looking up from my notebook. The scruffy student shifted in his chair and took a deep breath. 

“Because you’re not afraid of the truth,” he said as he ruffled through his briefcase. After handing me the final article I had written on the Albert Jekyll case, a softer look at the tragedy that had occurred, he added: “I figured you’d ask so I printed this out. You’re the only one who wrote about him in a way that didn’t make him out to be a monster.”  
Something else lingered at the end of this sentence but I decided not to pursue it. I agreed, and a contract was signed a few weeks later, during which a bit of Albert shone through in Henry. 

“I suppose I can’t get a contract to have you write my dissertation too, can I?” He asked with a laugh. 

Spending time with him to gather information for the book wasn’t so dry as I had feared. Over time I had gotten to know Henry, and those he loved, quite well. I still have the invitation to his wedding stashed away in my research somewhere. When he died, it felt like the whole of London mourned.

I had lost a dear friend. 

It took me months before I could open my notebook on the Jekyll’s history, of my times with Henry, and of accounts from friends and family on the Jekyll family Inn, Albert before his disease, and Albert’s parents. I took some time to visit the spots Henry had shown me and walked around the old town. A couple of the townspeople recognized me and greeted me with the smile one gives when you can’t give a genuine smile but know you must, at least, grin. We spoke fondly of Henry, of the Jekylls, and I found myself taking notes out of habit. 

When I visited the Inn, his Aunt and Uncle greeted me warmly and we sat for hours over drinks going over old research. I heard stories I had been told before, new stories that I hastily wrote down to decipher when sober, and cried together. It was cathartic to have sympathetic ears let me know that the grief I was feeling was real. 

Invigorated over my meeting with the Jekylls, I called up Utterson to ask about Henry’s decline and what happened. He had agreed to meet and came to me with reams of paper, looking over his notes as I made my own. We pieced together the story of Henry Jekyll, and finally Utterson pulled out a notebook. It was battered and torn, covered in coffee stains and a few fruit stickers. 

“What’s this?” I asked, taking it as if it might explode. 

“Emma’s notes,” Utterson released it the moment I had a grasp on it, his hands over his notes. “When I told her you wanted to meet, she sent me this. Said to keep it- maybe write your book.”  
Silence hung over our café table as I flipped through a few pages. There were pages where Emma’s handwriting was calculated and strict, some where it was messy and chaotic. She must have had sleepless nights pouring over the journal, desperate like Henry to clear the name of the Jekyll family. 

“You are going to write your book, aren’t you?” Utterson finally asked, meeting my eyes with calm determination when my head snapped up from Emma’s story. 

“I have to.” 

Utterson nodded. We conversed for a few moments more before parting ways, promising to keep in touch whenever the other found out something new.  
Years of research, time spent with the Jekylls, of studying court cases over and over have lead me here. I don’t know if you’ll believe me. It’s a story that even I had trouble believing at first but the more I spoke with other scientists, with people who had met the dreadful Edward Hyde, and even with Lucy’s family, I understood it.  
I hope that with this book I can bring Henry, and the other victims of Hyde, to peace. And perhaps find peace for myself as well.


End file.
